Yellowed Leaves
by PlanetOfTheWeepingWillow
Summary: Matthew (Canada) and Katrina (Ukraine) move into a new neighborhood. A friendly little oneshot made to relax you and hopefully bring a smile to your lips. CanUkr!


Katrina reclined on her front porch, watching yellowed leaves flutter by.

"You're tea's getting cold," Matthew said from the front door, peering at her quizzically.

Katrina looked towards him and smiled. She stood, her pale pink sundress dropping down below her knees, having been scrunched up. "Don't worry, I already drank it," she explained and walked back indoors. Matthew caught her scent: almonds and peaches.

He followed after her into the kitchen. A golden light from the setting sun flooded it as Katrina pulled open the curtains. Stacked boxes stood tall along the walls, the barren floors naked of furniture. Matthew observed this, listening to Katrina wash her teacup.

"We really should get unpacking." He heaved a sigh and pulled over a fold-up chair, slumping down on it.

Katrina gave a sweeping glance towards the mountains of belongings. "If only we had the time."

"We have it right now…" Matthew began to argue but Katrina elevated her eyebrows, her soft lips parted.

"Don't you want to enjoy the warm autumn air before winter sets in?"

Matthew pursed his lips.

"I mean," Katrina placed a hand on his shoulder, "When it's winter and chilly out, then we'll finish packing. It's only a few days away."

"Fine." Matthew resigned, "Are we going to meet our neighbors, then? They did invite us."

The previous day their neighbor, a comely Belgian woman, came to their house and invited them to an autumn lunch in her backyard. She spoke sweetly and played with her mass of curly blonde hair, giving off a sort of Good Witch effect. Matthew found it slightly unnerving.

"Do you think Feliks will be there?" Katrina spoke up, longing to see her old school friend.

"Probably, if you're going." Matthew nodded, biting his thumb nail.

Their main purpose for choosing this suburban neighborhood had been Katrina's best friend suggesting it. The old tenants had moved out; to Australia apparently in search of work.

Katrina had picked up a job secretary and Matthew in a lumber factory; they made good enough money so what was there to complain about?

"How about a bite to eat?" Katrina suggested, to ease the stiff silence.

Matthew nodded, watching Katrina dig through the refrigerator. She eventually decided on a grilled cheese sandwich for them. She pulled the cheese and bread, holding the orange juice box with her small finger. It dangled dangerously and Matthew rushed over, helping her and stealing a kiss.

She chuckled and kissed him back, so they set off.

Their second night in the new house passed with few words and the next day; the day of the invite, tumbled on lazily.

Matthew rose early, standing up and yawning.

Katrina, seemingly still asleep, had her back to him. Her silk nightgown wrapped around her finger like a wrapper around a candy; framing all the curves and bends of her body perfectly. The white morning light enveloped her and Matthew reached over, gently rubbing her smooth thigh. She batted at him and told him to let her be.

She tugged the covers tighter over herself. Matthew grinned and brushed away a lock of her fine, light brown hair, pressing a kiss to the exposed cheek; dotted with a bundle of freckles.

Her lips tugged into a faint grin and Matthew set off to make breakfast. As he had suspected; she quickly came down to the rick smell of pancakes. Her robe loosely hanging off her shoulders, she lazily sat on the chair and awaited the fluffy slices of clouds imported directly from heaven and prepared by her husband.

He had to agree. He finished cooking them up and slid it onto her plate. Steam buffeted from them like clouds of pearly smoke.

"So have you thought about the lunch thing?" Matthew asked, watching her chew with her eyes closed. He pulled his long hair back and tied it with string before eating his own, adding a generous helping of syrup onto it. The golden, thick liquid poured down the pancakes and spread like lava on earth.

She swallowed and down the bite with a swig of orange juice. Matthew watched her tilt the cup upwards and gulp it as though it were alcohol. Old habits die hard. "Well," she cleared her throat, wiping her lips with her wrist, "I guess we could go. What loss is there? Meeting one's neighbors is an excellent way to meet new friends!" She cheerfully smiled and began on the other pancake.

Matthew nodded.

Several hours later, dressed in jeans with blouses tucked in, they headed towards the house. It was at the end of the cul-de-sac. Matthew offered to hold the daisy bouquet for Katrina, but started sneezing when he neared them and gave up the idea. Katrina tried very hard not to burst out laughing.

They rapped on the door and the Good Witch, or Emma as she was named, opened the door. Her brightly pink dress bounced as she led them to the backdoor. She happily thanked them for the flowers.

The backyard took Katrina's breath away.

It was large, semi-circle shaped with a sea of lush green grass. Flowers surrounded the edge of the circle, of all sizes. A single tree, an apple tree with hard apples hanging lowly form the branches was in the down right corner of the circle and on the other a porch swing where two little girls in summer dresses sat babbling to each other. The grass shivered in the wind at the feet of a large table, surrounded with chairs. Some of them were filled. At one end sat an albino man staring into the forget-me-not blue sky. Besides him, munching on a dry biscuit, chattered a man with a thick Spanish accent. His hair a dark oak brown and his skin tan, causing his bright white teeth to stand out.

Katrina caught sight of her friend quickly. He stood up, his short blonde hair swaying in his movements as he embraced Katrina and kissed her cheek in a friendly manor. He shook hands with Matthew, who couldn't help but notice the remarkably fashionable nature of the Polish man before him. Feliks wore simple pants and a green jacket of a light blouse; a completely normal outfit, but made to look like a model's favorite on his slim body. He invited them to sit down. Katrina chatted with him while Matthew acquainted himself with the other two. The albino he learned called himself Gilbert and the Spaniard was called Antonio.

Emma trotted out once the rest of the guests had accumulated around the table. The meal was set and they dug in.

Gilbert discretely pulled a slick bottle of medication and tapped a few tablets into his palm, swallowing them and looking about to see who noticed. Matthew did, but didn't dare make it obvious. He smiled placidly and dipped a tortilla chip into a spicy dip Antonio had brought.

Antiono explained how he had come to help his friend, Gilbert, out for some time. He lived in Barcelona as a pharmacist and spent his free time in Madrid and Normandy, France. Gilbert, however, had grown up in a rural stretch of Germany, taken a small amount of college in Berlin before giving up and moving to America. He had contacted a disease in the past few months, hence the pills, and he needed motivation. They had another close friend, a Francis who lived as a painter in Normandy with a spouse he never really gave a name to.

"Really, he's so secretive," Antonio shook his head, shoving a barbecued chicken into his mouth.

At that epic, Matthew found his own story a tad bit underwhelming.

"Really, do tell us! I love hearing people's back stories. As long as you're alright with sharing it." Antonio added.

Katrina and Felix had joined the conversation by now. She nodded at Matthew who told the rather anti-climactic story of his life.

"I was born in Canada, Quebec, so I speak both French and English fluently. I went to college there and met with Katrina towards the end. It was a friendship we really didn't expect to get to this point." He punctuated it with a kiss to Katrina's forehead. Emma giggled and waved his hand, bidding him to continue. "My brother lives in New York, so we often visit him. We used to live in Montreal and eventually moved here, we wanted something new and Feliks here was happy to oblige."

Feliks nodded and winked smartly.

"And you're Russian…?" Emma raised her eyebrows at Katrina, demurely batting her lashes as to not be rude.

"No, Ukrainian, but close." Katrina was unfazed.

Emma apologized and suddenly smiled widely.

"My best friend lived in Hungary. The diversity of cultures here reminds me of this story. Anyway, when she was ten, she packed a bag with money she made selling cookies and some clothing. She hopped on a train, heedless of where it went. She ended up in Ukraine, then. She loved it, but her parents were worried to death. She apologized and they oddly felt a sense of pride in her adventure. So that's how she grew up. She made some money, and then flew off to explore Europe—Poland, Germany, Belgium, Holland, Lithuania, you name it. Her rucksack eventually became a heavy red purse and I'm pretty sure she still travels. Poor dear could never handle staying in one place for too long." Emma shyly looked downwards, as if this were the first time she had told such a long story.

"That's amazing." Matthew said.

Emma nodded and stood, setting off for some sweets.

The lunch went well into dinner time. Someone had brought some movies and they sat around watching it, absorbing the other's life stories and funny and/or embarrassing tales. Emma found she hadn't cooked anything for dinner and grew flustered. Katrina and Feliks offered to cook up a European meal and left for the kitchen. Hardly any time went by when delicious smells the sounds of cooking wafted towards the living room.

It wasn't until ten that night when Matthew and Katrina returned home. Exhausted and feeling satisfied with their day, they undressed and slumped into bed.

Their hands tightly clasped together, they fell asleep, awaiting their new lives ahead of them. They were unaware of the snow beginning to powder down outside.


End file.
